The Iron Balance the Mice Ate
A merchant says mice ate the heavy iron scales left in his safekeeping. The owner agrees that the world is impermanent — and then asks to borrow his son.
In a certain city lived a merchant's son named Jirnadhana whose fortune had run out. In his house lay a great iron balance weighing a thousand, earned by his ancestors. Before going abroad he left that balance on deposit at a merchant's house and departed.
After a long time abroad, having made as much money as he wished, he came back and said: "Sir, kindly return the balance I left with you." The merchant said: "Ah — it is gone. The mice ate it."
Jirnadhana said: "Sir, how is that your fault? If mice ate it, then the world is impermanent; nothing lasts. Never mind. Just now I am going to the river to bathe; send your son Dhanadeva along with me to carry my bathing things."
The merchant, afraid his theft would come out, was delighted — "He has accepted it" — and told his son: "Child, this is your uncle; he is going to bathe. Take his things and go with him."
Jirnadhana took the boy, bathed, and on the way back seated him in a cave by the river, blocked the mouth with a great slab of rock, and came home alone.
The merchant asked: "Where is my son, who went with you?" He said: "What can I say — a hawk carried him off from the riverbank." The merchant shouted: "Liar! How can a hawk carry off a boy? Give me back my son, or I go to the king's court."
Jirnadhana said calmly: "Truthful man! Just as a hawk cannot carry off a boy, so mice cannot eat an iron balance weighing a thousand. If you want your son, return my balance."
The dispute reached the court. When the whole story was told in the assembly, the magistrates laughed and ordered: "Let one return the balance, and the other the boy." And so it was done.
So it is said: where mice eat an iron balance, there a hawk carries off a boy.
तुला लोहसहस्रस्य यत्र खादन्ति मूषिकाः । राजंस्तत्र हरेच्छ्येनो बालकं नात्र संशयः ॥
Moral: Where mice can eat an iron balance weighing a thousand, O king, there a hawk can carry off a boy — of that there is no doubt.
From the Panchatantra, Book I — The Loss of Friends.
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